


Gowns and Guns

by inkreservoir



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassination Attempt(s), Character Death, Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 22:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12220587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkreservoir/pseuds/inkreservoir
Summary: V's organization is hired to prevent an assassination attempt at a masquerade ball. The problem is, the masquerade ball happens to be C&R International's annual New Year's Eve masquerade, the target of the assassination happens to be Chairman Han, and the suspect behind the assassination happens to be Jumin.Written for Day 3 of the first JuminV Week.





	Gowns and Guns

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is a ridiculously long overdue posting of a fic I wrote for JuminV week that took place way back in April. The minds behind this fic are my own and that of my sister, Tesneem, shigi-no-stop on tumblr. She did all the amazing illustrations for this fic and worked so hard with me to develop the plot and concept, as well as listening and giving feedback on the writing the entire time. This work is nothing less than a labour of love, posted originally to tumblr, and we hope you all enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed working on it.

 

Jihyun’s lucky to already be alone when the phone in his left pocket vibrates. The sting in his eyes when he stands from his cross-legged position tells him he’d been staring far too long at the photographs laid out on the floor, trying to decide which ones to use in his next exhibit. The light 707 installed to indicate that the call is being bugged isn’t flashing, so he brings it to his ear, rubbing his eyes wearily.

“Speaking.”

“Hello,” the voice on the other end greets him, which tells Jihyun right away that the caller has time to waste on pleasantries. He sinks down in the couch cushion, crossing one leg over the other. After a beat of silence, the other seems to get the hint. “I’m calling because I have a tip, and I’d like to hire your people to look into it.”

Jihyun waits, then prompts, “Go on,” when the other doesn’t continue. There’s no reason for Jihyun to give the person any information. They’re looking to hire, so they clearly know about what his organization does, and if their real goal is to sabotage Jihyun won’t speed the process by letting something slip.

“Yes, of course,” the other says, and there’s an edge to their voice that tells him they’re not entirely pleased by his reaction, but it doesn’t really matter what they think. “Well… have you heard about the New Year’s Eve Masquerade Ball that C&R International hosts every year?”

Though there’s no one in the room to see him, Jihyun maintains tight control of his facial expression upon hearing the name of his best friend’s father’s enterprise. “Go on.”

“Well, you see… rumour has it that someone has hired an assassin for that night.”

Jihyun is silent. On its own, a fact like that isn’t strange. Assassinations take place at parties more often than one might expect considering the crowds, but in many cases the busyness just serves as a diversion and the party an inconspicuous setting in which to poison someone’s drink. Even his own organization has had to deal with assassinations in the past.

He doesn’t have to urge the other to continue this time, their tone turning steely as they carefully speak their next words. “The talks suggest that the Chairman is the target of the attack, and I have reason to believe the client is Jumin Han.”

As always, Jihyun is late, and as always, his breathing is slightly faster than usual from running down the corridor from the elevator, and he knows Jumin will be able to detect he was rushing. Ever since the first time Jihyun went to visit Jumin when they were about five years old he’s never seemed to be able to make it on time, and he knows Jumin doesn’t like the running but he can’t help feeling he should at least save a few seconds when his friend’s been waiting around for him.

“You know, there’s really no need to run,” Jumin says upon opening the door. It never fails.

“I’m sorry,” Jihyun apologizes, and Jumin steps aside to let him in. Jumin is wearing a white dress shirt and black pants, though his vest is still on and from that Jihyun can tell he only recently got back from work. “I told you it’s urgent and then arrived late…”

“It’s fine,” Jumin insists, and Jihyun decides he’d best get to the point quickly, passing Jumin to take a seat at the little table by the window. At anyone else’s house he’d let his host lead him, but Jumin’s is and has been for years a second home to Jihyun, so he doesn’t mind forgoing manners here and there.

Jumin follows him, taking the opposite seat, and Jihyun leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. Jumin nods to assure Jihyun that he’s listening, and Jihyun begins, the way he rehearsed it in the car on the way here. “We’ve received a new mission.”

Jumin leans back in his seat, probably wondering why something so ordinary warranted an urgent meeting, and just like that Jihyun forgets everything he was going to say. He bites his lip, trying to make the words come back to him, and Jumin’s face shifts, brows drawing down.

“Is something wrong?”

Jihyun closes his eyes and doesn’t respond, the question difficult in this situation. The missions they take usually aren’t personal, though many of the ones Jumin gets assigned to involve people he knows through work or ones involving negotiations of some form. This is of a different scale, though.

“V?” he hears Jumin’s voice again and lets out a sigh before opening his eyes. The practiced words aren’t coming back and there’s no reason to make Jumin more nervous by delaying it.

“Jumin, I think someone is trying to kill your father.”

Jumin’s eyes widen and Jihyun feels his stomach sink.

“What do you mean?” Jumin asks, hands closing atop the table into fists. “Someone tried to hire us to…?”

Jihyun shakes his head. “It's… worse than that.”

Jumin narrows his eyes at Jihyun impatiently, lips tightened in a flat line, and Jihyun draws a breath before explaining, “The client wants us to stop the assassination, and according to them, you’re the one who ordered it.”

Jumin’s eyes flash, sword-silver, engaging Jihyun in a hot glare as if to drown him in magma, and Jihyun swallows though he knows Jumin’s anger isn’t directed at him per se, reaching across the table to grasp his friend’s hand in an attempt to calm him down. Jumin’s muscles tighten in response, but a moment passes and he exhales through his nose, unclenching his fist. Jihyun waits a moment, then intertwines his fingers with Jumin’s.

“I… did no such thing,” Jumin mumbles, voice low and thin in patience. “Obviously.”

“Of course not,” Jihyun reassures him, and with another deep breath Jumin relaxes. Jumin’s always had a well of unconditional love for his father, the lengths Jumin would go to for the Chairman and the time the two of them would spend together was always something Jihyun admired and wished he could also have for himself.

As the heir of the corporation, though, perhaps it isn’t so surprising that Jumin would be the one the rumours would accuse.

Jumin pulls their hands apart, leaning back and folding his arms. “I suppose I should be grateful that they gave their tip to you, of all people.”

“Well, no one knows I’m part of the organization, let alone its head.”

“That’s true,” he sighs again. “Rumours… aren’t of interest to me, and the media always wants to make it out that my father and I are fighting, but… I didn’t account for the possibility that someone might scapegoat me in an attempt on my father’s life.”

Jihyun nods. “I’ve thought about it and I agree that you’re probably being framed… but, the important question is, who actually hired the assassin?” He folds his arm, resting his chin on his hand, fingers curled against his face. The nails of his other hand tap the table. “The person who called said the assassin’s been hired for the big party your company holds on New Year’s Eve.”

“Of course,” Jumin mutters. “Masks… such a stupid idea.”

“It’s a convenient one for us,” Jihyun stresses. “It’ll be less noticeable we’re gathering information when it takes extra time to identify someone.”

“You stand out either way,” Jumin counters. “Your hair is turquoise.”

It amuses Jihyun that Jumin never chooses to just call his hair ‘blue’, the desire for precision that makes Jumin an excellent businessperson and agent unfaltering since they were children.

“And I’m the Chairman’s son,” Jumin continues. “People will definitely notice if I’m gone.”

“Then it’ll be a challenge,” Jihyun smiles. Jumin doesn’t seem to take to the sentiment and Jihyun controls his expression again. “I’ll do most of the work,” Jihyun says. “As you already know, I’m experienced in these areas, and you and I actually have reason to be at the party, unlike most of the others in the organization. We’ll have to be careful, but we always are, especially you. I sincerely believe that we can do this.”

Jumin’s hand moves to grasp the cuff of his sleeve, not taking his eyes off of Jihyun. “If you’ll be doing most of the work, then… there’s a chance you could be hurt.”

“A chance we have to take in every mission,” Jihyun reminds him. Jumin rolls his shoulders back.

“You’re right,” he concedes.

Jihyun had already considered trying to bring Luciel in on the mission, but because of the accusations around Jumin already, he decided it would be best to keep as few people informed about the mission as possible. Even a joke among their friends regarding the matter could be deadly if it somehow leaked. And on a personal level, Jihyun would rather deal with a situation that involves his best friend himself instead of sending someone else to do it.

“Well,” Jumin says, and Jihyun focuses in again. “… The person who called you certainly knew a lot about the situation, didn’t they.”

The corner of Jihyun’s lip quirks up. “I see we had the same thought.”

“As usual,” Jumin says, sitting up. “Were they secretive about their identity to you when they called?”

Jihyun shakes his head, and Jumin looks at him expectantly. “I think it’s because they were confident in their alibi… Jumin. Do you remember if anything significant is happening at the party this year?”

Jumin narrows his eyes. “Significant?” His eyes roam Jihyun’s face like an explorer searching for treasure, but Jihyun keeps quiet. “Well… we generally invite major stockholders and people who want to close contracts to the ball to celebrate the deals that were made. There are multiple corporations we’ll be signing with on New Year's…”

He prattles on, listing the names of multiple corporations, and it occurs to Jihyun that Jumin might have just pushed the entire thing out of his mind because he doesn’t want to think about it. “Jumin.”

Jumin blinks. “Yes?”

“There’s another contract your father will be signing at the party. With a person… Glam Choi?”

Jumin’s nose wrinkles, and then his eyes go wide. “I forgot,” he breathes, the lines in his face smoothing out, expression turning to stone. “The marriage contract, and the announcement of the wedding date.”

Jihyun nods, and Jumin’s hands fall on the table. “So she’s the one who called you, then—my father’s fiancée. And she’s trying to frame me for my father’s death.”

Jihyun nods again, and with that confirmation Jumin rises to his feet, Jihyun following. “Jumin, wait.”

“I have to tell him,” Jumin says, meeting Jihyun’s eyes again with fire, burning and alive and crackling in a way that even the best photographs can’t capture and Jihyun feels a chill run up his spine.

“Jumin, think about this,” he pleads, and Jumin remains still. “You are already being accused of ordering an assassination on your father. Glam Choi has good relationships with gossip media, unlike you, who frequently refuses to engage with it, and your father isn’t one to turn down an interview. If it somehow comes out that you warned your father about Glam Choi, you could be in danger… in fact, it might be that much easier to frame you in the long run.”

Jumin blinks, and Jihyun contains his sigh of relief when Jumin runs a weary hand through his hair, sinking down again in his seat. Jihyun pulls his own chair around to sit closer and weaves his fingers through Jumin’s again.

“You’re right, of course,” Jumin resigns, not looking up from the glossy tabletop, marred now with their fingerprints. “I wouldn’t be able to explain how I acquired the information anyway… he’d likely turn against me if I were to warn him.”

Jihyun winces at Jumin’s words, his grip on his friend’s hand tightening for just a moment. He didn’t mean to make Jumin doubt his relationship with his father by voicing his concern. He licks his lip, wondering if he should say something or apologize, but Jumin speaks up while he’s thinking.

“Then,” he turns his head to look at Jihyun and Jihyun turns also to meet his gaze. They really are quite close like this, Jumin’s chocolate brown hair only a few inches from brushing V’s face. “What do you suggest we do?”

“What we’d do in any other situation,” Jihyun answers. “We go to the ball, and we stop the assassination ourselves.”

Jumin closes his eyes, dark lashes so long they barely touch his cheekbones. “If that’s what you think is best, then… I will trust you, and do as you say.”

The city lights reflect on the window, bright enough that they might’ve been able to see each other even without the penthouse lighting that renders every corner visible, and Jihyun swears to Jumin that he won’t misplace his trust.

At first, Jihyun thought it incredible that Glam Choi have so much confidence in the assassin she’s hired as to request that Jihyun’s organization interfere just to make herself appear less suspicious. It occurred later to Jumin and Jihyun that there may not be an assassin at all, though understanding why Glam would lie about that to their organization in particular is difficult. More likely, hiring the organization was meant as a type of insurance, so if the assassination failed she could use her attempt to prevent it as an alibi. That means they’ll have to find damning evidence against Glam Choi in addition to the basic mission of stopping the assassination.

Glam had requested that Jihyun meet her in person prior to the mission, but Jihyun insisted on keeping their communication restricted to phones and assured her that his own contacts could get him a place on the guest list without her involvement. Of course, he didn’t explain that his ticket into the party is the very man Glam is accusing. Decked in a form-fitting black dress coat with large lapel flaps and zigzag buttoning, a black mask covering his face from his forehead to his cheekbones, it strikes Jihyun how long it’s been since he’s attended this sort of party. New Year’s Eve and the holiday time surrounding it are busy for work, with money and family grievances on people’s minds more than any other season. Of course, this is a job too, but C&R International’s annual ball is of a caliber even some of the richest parties Jihyun has attended can’t quite capture.

The blend of perfumes in the air is rich, floral with the spices of incense, the scent filling Jihyun’s lungs before he’s even stepped into the grand ballroom. Each guest had been specially presented as they entered and greeted by the Chairman, but Jihyun couldn’t find his keys just before it was time to leave and missed the introductions by the time he arrived at the event. It may be for the best not to draw much attention to himself, though. The Chairman ordered a live orchestra for the event, and their music rings through the hall without overpowering the voices of many of the wealthiest people in South Korea, engaged in business conversations as well as gossiping around the hall while others take to the dance floor. Were it not for a prohibition of photography at the ball except by those specifically hired for it, Jihyun would have brought his camera to capture the intricate details of the large and ornate skirts swishing across the high gloss floors, masks custom designed for their wearers encrusted in jewels so precious they could be in museums. Glam Choi could not have chosen a more dramatic setting for an attempt on the Chairman’s life.

“Late,” a voice monotones from behind him, and Jihyun wonders how Jumin managed to find him so quickly, turning on his heel to face him.

“I’m sorry,” Jihyun apologizes. His friend wears a black blazer unbuttoned, contrasted sharply with white satin lapels. His turndown shirt is black behind a white waistcoat, unmistakable silver eyes blinking through a white mask, and Jihyun realizes that unintentionally they’ve matched their outfits.

“I wouldn’t expect less from you,” Jumin asserts. “I’ve watched the entrance since ten minutes after introductions started.”

Jihyun sighs. “I suppose I should go greet your father.”

“Yes,” Jumin agrees, and it’s harder to discern his expression from behind the mask, but the way he barely purses his lips is enough to tell Jihyun that he’s anxious. Surrounded by the crowd, it’s neither the time nor the place for reassuring words, so Jihyun gives Jumin’s arm a quick squeeze before scanning the room for the Chairman. It’s not really because of the Chairman himself that Jihyun needs to greet him—actually, Jihyun’s not sure the Chairman has memorized his name over all these years—but other guests will notice it if the latecomer doesn’t greet him, and Jihyun doesn’t need any more eyes than what’s strictly necessary watching him tonight.

He spots the Chairman standing at the railings that overlook the dance floor up the grand marble staircases, dressed in a black and red florally patterned vest and a double-breasted long coat. Jihyun gives Jumin a final nod of acknowledgment before leaving to greet the Chairman. From above, Jumin doesn’t stand out too much in the crowd of people, despite his tall stature and the striking outfit. It’s likely that he’ll be made to dance with some of the guests, which Jumin hates, but at least in this setting he knows to expect it.

It’s not until Jihyun’s ascended the staircase that he notices Glam Choi, who stands closer to the wall yet still in earshot of the Chairman, speaking to a couple sitting at one of the balcony tables. Her long brown hair has been delicately braided into an updo that accentuates her long neck, loose wispy curls framing her face. The bodice of her fiery orange gown is adorned with jewels that match the details of her mask, the metal cut so finely and precisely it gives the illusion of being made of lace. The bodice flows into the poufy skirts like lava, ruffles set in motion at even her slightest movement.

Jihyun gives a pointed look to the Chairman, who catches Jihyun’s eye with one of his blue-grey ones, then waits by the railing for a chance to speak with him. The orchestra finishes the song they’re playing and move onto another, and Jihyun is almost growing dizzy at the uniform way which people move below him when Chairman Han steps over.

“Good evening, Mr. Han,” Jihyun steps back from the railing, outstretching his hand first. The Chairman has the same grip as his son when they shake, or perhaps it’d be more accurate to say Jumin has the same grip as his father. Jihyun pulls his hand away with a cordial smile, grateful not for the first time that Luciel programmed his phone to disguise his voice so Glam wouldn’t be able to detect him that way.

“Good evening,” Chairman Han responds, and Jihyun notices that the Chairman avoids addressing him by name. In this case, it’s probably for the best, since if Mr. Han paid more attention to what Jihyun meant to Jumin and identified him as such, it could potentially spell out trouble later for the goal of stopping the assassination. Still, he can’t help being a little surprised that after more than twenty years of flying places with his son and staying in their home Mr. Han barely knows who he is. “I see that you weren’t introduced when you entered. Were you all right getting here?”

“I was, thank you,” Jihyun says. “And I apologize for my lateness.”

“Not at all,” the Chairman smiles kindly. “You’re here now, and the ball is better for it. Thank you for attending.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Jihyun ascertains. “I can already tell that tonight will be marvellous, as always with C&R International.”

“Flattery,” the older man’s blue-grey eyes twinkle behind the red mask he wears, and he steps back to reach his arm toward his fiancée, who’s finished her conversation with the other couple and walks over to where the Chairman and Jihyun are standing. “Darling,” he greets her.

“My love,” Glam says with a sultry smile as his arm wraps around her waist.

“I don’t believe you’ve met this young man before?” Mr. Han asks rhetorically.

“No, I don’t believe I have,” Glam answers, and Jihyun decides it best to interject with his own introduction than to leave the Chairman to choose his words.

“I’m Jihyun Kim,” he extends his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Choi.”

Her fingers are long and made to look even longer by her nails, which have jewels glued onto them to go with her dress. “I see you already know who I am,” she observes, and Jihyun wonders if revealing so may have been a mistake. Her smile afterward tells him otherwise, though.

Jihyun nods. “It would be regrettable to miss a person of your talent.”

Glam laughs, and the Chairman joins in. “I’d better watch before you sweep her off her feet and away from me,” he jokes.

“Dear, don’t worry about that,” Glam reassures him, and Jihyun smiles politely. “You’re the only one for me.”

“How lucky I am,” Mr. Han replies, the wrinkles of his face lined in a smile before he turns his attention back to Jihyun. “Please, help yourself to some of the delicacies being served while you mingle tonight. We’ve had chefs imported from across the globe, and there are some very interesting flavours.”

“Thank you, Mr. Han,” Jihyun gives them a short bow. “I’ll be sure to.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Kim,” the Chairman says. Jihyun thanks him again, and the Chairman turns to speak with another couple, Glam’s arm laced through his. Jihyun affords himself a glance over the banister, looking for Jumin, but distinguishing him from others on the floor is a task in and of itself. He’s thankful to find he isn’t the only one here with an unusual hair colour, though. It seems fashion trends have changed since he was fifteen and started dyeing his.

The best place to start working would be with the ballroom gossip. As the person responsible for keeping up with public opinion, Zen had been able to provide Jihyun with the current talk surrounding Jumin and the Chairman, though he grumbled when Jihyun wouldn’t provide a reason for needing the information. According to Zen, the media fixated on a supposed argument that broke out between Jumin and the Chairman, and when Jihyun reached out to ask Jaehee about it, she informed him that reporters were calling every day but that she didn’t bother notifying Jumin because he’s never interested in engaging them. Supposedly, the rumour receiving the most traction claims Jumin requested his father retire early so Jumin could take over the company.

Glam doesn’t just work fast, she works well. The rumour would set the stage for the rest of the evening. Jihyun accepts a glass of sparkling water with a lemon wedge pressed into the edge of the cup from a passing server, then introduces himself to a group of three men leaning against a banister. Networking, after all, is part of the reason C&R holds these parties, so talking to strangers isn’t such an unusual thing to do. The men introduce themselves as well—Mr. Jeon, whose mask looks to be made of cracked stone, plated with gold; Mr. Park, wearing a royal purple tuxedo; and Mr. Kang, whose hair is so dark his black mask seems to blend into it.

“I see you arrived late,” Mr. Kang comments. “But that means you had reason to have a one-on-one conversation with the Chairman sooner than most of the others here, so perhaps it was a wise decision.”

Jihyun smiles. “Speaking to Mr. Han firsthand early on can have its advantages,” he says, and the other men murmur their agreement. “How are you enjoying your evening?”

“It’s extravagant, as always with C&R,” Mr. Park remarks.

“It’s only appropriate, considering the value of the tickets,” Mr. Jeon shrugs.

“Still,” Mr. Park replies. “Something so fanciful seems contradictory… especially with the mask nonsense.”

“I like the masks,” Mr. Jeon informs him.

Mr. Park looks at Jihyun. “What do you think?”

The idle conversation is perhaps Jihyun’s least favourite part of coming to such parties. He’d prefer to listen to other people talk than actually discuss things himself, but being a complete wallflower could have the opposite effect of keeping attention off of himself. “I enjoy some extravagance on New Year’s Eve.”

“Yes, exactly,” Mr. Jeon agrees, and Mr. Park remains silent.

“… I could do without being asked if I’ve brought a date, though,” Mr. Kang comments. “That always seems to become a focus when Mr. Han gets involved with anything.”

“Because he always has a different date,” Mr. Park adds disdainfully. “He and the newest are actually going to be signing a marriage contract here of all places, and right after the countdown, too… he only just got his divorce a few months ago.”

Mr. Jeon nods. “It is quite tasteless, I’ll admit that.” He looks at Jihyun, seeming to remember he’s there. “We had a chance to speak to her earlier… she certainly seems happy about it, though that’s no surprise considering what she’s marrying into.” He gestures toward the dance floor below.

“And she’s so much younger than him,” notes Mr. Park.

“I suppose she’d receive the bulk of his inheritance if anything were to happen to him,” Mr. Kang says.

“Do you think that’s why he and his son are supposedly fighting?”

Jihyun’s ears perk up at Mr. Jeon’s comment. “They’re fighting?” he asks.

“People have been talking a lot about it tonight,” Mr. Jeon looks at him. “Apparently there’s been tension lately.”

The talk of the night… so it is severe. Jihyun nods with faux thoughtfulness.

“I haven’t really seen the Chairman speak to his son much all night so far,” Mr. Kang comments. “So there may be some truth to it.”

“Well, it’s still a ball,” Mr. Jeon disagrees. “He probably has other people to talk to. I don’t know though… the guest list seems to have more new people on it than usual, and at a party like this…”

Mr. Park sighs. “Something always happens.”

“New people?” Jihyun inquires.

There’s a moment of quiet before the orchestra starts playing a new song, and the ballroom goes quiet too, as if the conversations were all turned off at once. Not an uncommon practice at such parties because it allows some small privacy in those few moments where anything said can be more easily overheard, but more importantly to Jihyun, it’s a sign that secrets are being exchanged.

“Well…” Mr. Jeon says, head moving up and down exaggeratedly to look Jihyun over. “There’s you, for instance… though, actually, you aren’t really new, are you? I think I remember you from about three years ago…”

“Yes,” Jihyun confirms. “Unfortunately last minute circumstances forced me away the last few years.”

“I remember,” Mr. Park says. “You said you’re a photographer, right? I bought a piece from you after a party one year.”

“Oh… of course,” Jihyun says, remembering now. It was a simple photo, one of a flower by a brook. Jihyun loved that photo because of the way the sun glistened on the water and reflected onto the flower.

“It hangs in my office now,” Mr. Park tells him, and Jihyun gives him a genuine smile.

“I’m honoured.”

Mr. Park nods, and Mr. Kang gestures to get their attention, leaning against the railing.

“You can see some of the new people below,” he says, assuming a more nonchalant position. “There was one woman who was introduced without a surname, for example, and owners of smaller businesses that C&R doesn’t usually deal with… you can tell who they are by their outfits.”

Mr. Jeon snickers at that and Mr. Park scoffs at his snickering, but Jihyun’s mind is at work. There are only two types of people at this party: attendees, including new guests as well as old ones; and the crew, which includes the kitchen staff, servers, cleanup, security, and ushers. The most obvious and easiest move Glam could make would be to invite the assassin as an extra guest to the ball. The subtlest would be to disguise them as a member of the staff, though because most of them have worked with each other for many years it would be difficult to accomplish such a feat without being caught almost immediately. The least likely move would be to use one of the older guests as the assassin, since Glam’s contacts are entirely separate from the Chairman’s, and she doesn’t have anything to offer guests of this status that they can’t obtain themselves through less incriminating methods. The next course of action, consequently, would be to investigate the newer guests—identifiable by, as Mr. Kang pointed out, their lackluster ensembles.

Jihyun spends a few minutes more speaking to the group, then bids the gentlemen a good evening and descends the staircase. He’ll have to listen around for more gossip to gauge what others think of the new guests in the room, especially because underdressing is a severe crime in these circles so he can be sure that discussion will abound. First, though, he should check in with Jumin.

Jumin is speaking with the CEO of a major software production company when he sees turquoise hair approaching from the corner of his eye. The parts of C&R that Jumin oversees generally aren’t involved in technology production, so it’s not a particularly important conversation, and Jumin politely takes his leave of the other in favour of his best friend.

“Enjoying yourself?” Jihyun asks once they’re standing in front of each other. Jumin shrugs.

“I suppose so,” he answers, and though normally he’d put more effort into faking enthusiasm it’s a bit difficult knowing there’s likely an assassin in the room and that they could strike at any moment. Though, Jumin supposes, it’s most likely the assassin would wait until after the marriage contract is signed to make their move. Jihyun’s face doesn’t falter, and it’s always a bit strange for Jumin to think of how utterly professional his friend is when on a job, even though Jihyun has always been this way. Jumin really ought to collect himself as well, since his nervousness would do him no favours and letting his emotions influence his actions is generally a terrible idea. “Are you?”

“I am,” Jihyun answers. “Have you spoken to your father yet all night?”

“Only after I entered,” Jumin responds, though now that he’s said it he realizes he doesn’t have much justification for that, other than a subconscious worry that being around his father would compel him to warn him and make the situation worse than it already is.

“Ah…” Jihyun says.

“I lost track of time, speaking to the people here,” Jumin says, in case anyone is listening, which they always are. “The ball is only a few short hours, after all, and the opportunities to communicate with valued contacts are boundless. You’re right, though. I should see how my father is doing.”

Jihyun gives Jumin the cordial smile he gives everyone, but Jumin can see in it that his friend approves of the direction Jumin has taken the conversation. “Then I’ll speak with you later, Jumin.”

Jumin agrees, and Jihyun walks the perimeters of the room to greet people, and, perhaps more importantly, to listen in on other people. Jumin moves up the stairs, saying hello to people on the way, and realizes neither his father nor Glam Choi are here anymore, which means they’ve retreated into one of the private quarters. Jumin swallows. It’s customary for his father to leave after a certain amount of entertaining if for no other purpose than to remind the guests of the importance and rareness of his availability, but under tonight’s circumstances the prospect of the two of them being alone makes Jumin nervous. He wonders if he should wait for their return since the main purpose of greeting them in the first place would be to appease the guests, but the prospect that his father won’t return is too great a burden on his mind, so he asks the security guard at the door to let Jumin into the private quarters as well.

He wanders inside. The ball is held at one of his father’s mansions. It isn’t one that his father actually lives in during the year, and Jumin suspects he really only owns the place so he can impress women with it. … Actually, now that Jumin considers it, if Glam has been staying here then there’s a chance it may be possible to find evidence against her among her belongings in the private quarter. He’ll have to scope it out himself later, when he gets the chance.

The halls are excessively long, with more rooms than they would ever need, but Jumin peers into every one that he passes, searching for his father and Glam Choi. The pit in his stomach grows with each step, until finally he turns a corner and hears muffled voices. He softens his footsteps, careful not to be heard, until he can make out the words.

“… tell you how many times, it’d age me,” he hears his father laugh.

“Oh, believe me, I know you have a youthful charm to you,” Glam’s breathy voice slips through the door.

“You’re always so bold…” his father replies, and Jumin’s lip curls. Forget eavesdropping, he doesn’t need to listen to this.

He knocks on the door with the backs of his fingers.

“Who’s that?” Glam asks.

“Jumin Han,” Jumin answers, though the question isn’t directed at him.

He hears some shuffling behind the door. “Ah, give us a moment,” his father says, and blood rushes to Jumin’s cheeks, regretting coming to check on them. Jumin’s not sure why he expected his father would at least have the decency not to do this sort of thing at the most famous event the company holds all year, but clearly it was a mistake.

“… I can come back later,” Jumin mutters.

“No, no, I wanted to talk to you,” his father says through the door, and Jumin runs his hands over his face and behind his neck with a sigh.

A few moments later, the door opens.

“I apologize for keeping you from your father,” Glam says when she opens the door. All her makeup is intact, and Jumin wonders if he might’ve misjudged the situation… though she may just have good quality makeup. He presses his fingernails hard into the palms of his hands—stop thinking about it.

“It’s not a problem,” Jumin lies. “I just wanted to see that everything is all right.”

“Everything is all right,” his father opens the door wider from behind Glam. “And how are you finding the evening?”

“Productive,” Jumin states. “I’ve already officially closed negotiations with six people.”

His father raises his eyebrows. “Six?”

“Well, I’m doing what I came to do,” Jumin says pointedly.

“Your son is so diligent,” Glam comments, and Jumin resists the urge to roll his eyes since they’re still visible behind the mask. “I’m impressed.”

“Yes…” Jumin’s father agrees faintly. “Though, you’re at a party, Jumin. Allow yourself to relax for the night. Maybe find a lady to dance with. There are many beautiful women here…”

Jumin takes extra care to keep his face still. His father would know all about that. “I would rather do my work, thank you.”

“What about some of the people that Glam suggested for guests?” Jumin’s father ignores him. “I spoke to one of them, Sarah, and she seemed like a lovely girl. Actually, I was about to introduce you to her when I saw you discussing work with someone and thought it best not to interrupt you.”

“I appreciate it, Father,” Jumin replies, stepping further back into the hall.

“Then please, dance with Sarah,” his father presses. “I think she’ll be a valuable asset to the company. We can discuss it in more detail soon.”

Jumin chews his cheek, doubting it and not thrilled by the prospect of dancing a full song with a stranger his unreliable father has judged to be valuable to the company, but even in the private quarters it’s worth it to be careful what he says, so he nods obediently. “One dance.”

“That’s all I ask of you,” his father concedes. “Now, let’s return to the ball.”

His father falls into step beside Jumin and his fiancée next to him—his fiancée who plans to have him murdered this very night. And to think what they were doing before…

Jumin’s stomach twists in knots, the effort to keep his mouth shut more enormous and difficult than any task he’s undertaken in years. This woman, who his father is so infatuated with as to order Jumin to dance with someone just because she recommended it, would have his father dead… She doesn’t deserve his father’s affections, but then, few of the ones who receive it actually do.

He remembers Sarah. She was introduced without a surname, which Jumin thought was quite presumptuous considering she’s a nobody, and her hair is raspberry pink. His father had made a point to highlight her to Jumin when they were greeting the guests, and Sarah expressed a desire to speak to Jumin later, though most of the others did as well.

Once they’ve re-entered the ballroom Jumin sweeps the room for her, his eyes skipping over fuchsia and blush until they find her, dressed in an extravagant silver gown with a large skirt of tightly bunched sheer fabric. Her cheeks are very red, and Jumin thinks whoever did her makeup must have used too much blush. She stands alone, drinking from a glass of wine, and he supposes he may as well get this over with.

“I’ll speak to you again later, Father,” Jumin says. “And you, Ms. Choi.”

He leaves their presence with a bow, heads down the stairs and strides around the dance area, stopping a few paces from Sarah to take a breath and collect his nerves. It’s only one dance, and he knows it’s coming… there’s no reason to get worked up over it. It’s a ball, dancing is only a formality and the dance floor is hardly a place to discuss business, so she won’t have much opportunity to try anything. He just needs to focus on the motions and the music, as he always does when he’s needed on missions of this sort… yes. Ultimately, this is a mission, and if he focuses on that aspect it will make going through with the dance easier than remembering his father asked this of him.

He can’t just linger here for long, anyway, or people will wonder, so he takes the final steps to Sarah.

“Good evening, Sarah,” Jumin says, and she turns to face him. “I believe we met earlier.”

“Ah, Jumin Han,” Sarah acknowledges with a smile. “We did, but not for very long. I’m glad you came over to talk to me. Your father told me you would, though.”

Jumin gives her a short nod. “May I have this dance?” he asks, offering his hand, and Sarah’s mask is lifted slightly off her cheeks when she grins and accepts it. They step out together onto the dance floor with a few other couples, facing each other and exchanging bows as the music starts again.

Jihyun sees Jumin walk onto the dance floor, a woman with pink hair holding his hand, and tunes out momentarily from the conversation the nearby couple was having that he’d been listening in on. Sarah… Jihyun learned her name through the comments of many of the guests, most of whom didn’t recognize her and hadn’t heard of her company. Jumin doesn’t like to dance with strangers, and ensuring he is forced to face situations that make him uncomfortable as little as possible is a task Jihyun took upon himself years ago, often by asking his friend to dance just to keep others on the floor away from him. Jumin is a good dancer, though, and probably looks natural to the majority of the guests, though Jihyun knows him well enough to note his stiffer-than-usual shoulders. Jumin had only just exited the private quarters, so Jihyun guesses it was probably the Chairman’s idea for Jumin to dance with her…

Or perhaps it was Glam’s idea. Jihyun narrows his eyes and steps closer to the balcony, pretending to be watching the dance taking place below while listening for the thoughts of those around him. He’d already learned from eavesdropping earlier that people were questioning Jumin’s relationship with her, since Sarah had supposedly thanked him specifically for her invitation.

“…certainly doesn’t take after his father,” a woman standing nearby says. “How old is he anyway? Nearly thirty, I believe? And it took him this long to get a single date?”

Jumin would be pleased to hear that one, except for the part about Sarah being his date.

“Yes, well… one has to wonder, considering what’s supposedly afoot tonight,” the lady standing with her says. “Invited by the Chairman’s son, and no one’s ever heard of her… and then there’s the rumours.”

“Hush!” her friend urges. “Someone might hear you.”

Jihyun sighs. He’s not sure how Glam managed to convince the other attendees that Sarah is Jumin’s guest, but now he knows he’s not the only one suspicious about the girl dancing below’s reasons for being at the party. This dance isn’t really making things any better for their cause. It almost seems… too obvious, considering Glam had assigned Jihyun the objective of stopping the assassination. Why is she making it so easy for him?

Below, Jumin is mesmerizing. His motions are smooth, each one blending into the next in perfect time with the shifting music notes. He leads the dance, and Sarah keeps up with skilled, practiced motions—actually.

Jihyun leans against the banister. Sarah’s footwork is precise, in fact, it’s as precise as Jumin’s, with light steps that would be near silent even if the orchestra were to stop playing. Jihyun glances around at the other guests to see if they notice, but no one comments on it, which he supposes isn’t strange since only someone trained to know what skills benefit agents would know to look for them. In any case, it lends credibility to the theory—it’s likely that Sarah is involved somehow in Glam Choi’s plot.

Sarah’s mask goes over the tip of her nose and covers her eyes and some of her forehead, so it’s not entirely disguising, but it’s clear from other guests that no one at this party has heard of her. If her name was only stated as written by Glam for the guest list and announced along with some company with no prominence—perhaps one started for the express purpose of this mission—it’s possible that with her hair dyed a less noticeable colour she’d be completely unrecognizable once the plot is complete.

Jihyun resists the urge to chew his lip, lost in thought. Sarah… if she’s not the assassin herself then she’s a distraction. Or a scapegoat. If she’s skilled enough, she might be able to escape right after the task is complete, and the attention would be on Jumin, the one most people here are convinced is plotting some move against the Chairman and who is now dancing with her on the ballroom floor.

Glam doesn’t know about Jihyun’s connection to Jumin, nor does she know that Jihyun himself is the one she hired for this job. If things had gone according to Glam’s plan, right now it would be very obvious to Jihyun that Sarah is the assassin, and he, like the guests, would be watching Jumin dance with her and perhaps hypothesizing that the two of them are in a relationship, and that Jumin plans to find a way to clear her name once his father is dead.

Jihyun closes his eyes.

If Jumin were really plotting to assassinate his father tonight, wouldn’t he want to do it before the marriage contract is signed? If the assassination were to occur after that, then he’d have to share his fortune with Glam. But if it happens before the signing, then Glam won’t receive any of Chairman Han’s money, which would be counter-productive. It would have to occur after the fact. But in that case… even with the motive she’s created for Jumin, it’d be obvious that Glam is the one who’d benefit most from a strike against the Chairman after the contract is signed.

Jihyun is distracted from his thoughts when the room bursts into applause, and he looks down at the ballroom floor to see Jumin holding Sarah in a low dip, and the two of them straighten together. Of course… Jumin always prefers a grand finale.

Jihyun claps too, masking his frustration. There could not be a worse time for Jumin to be showing off, though Jihyun is glad to see Jumin is well enough after the dance despite the discomfort he must have felt.

He feels his work phone move in his suit pocket with three long vibrations and glances casually around the ballroom. It can’t be anyone other than Glam, since that’s the vibrate tone he set for her, but if he takes out his phone here he’ll reveal himself. Glam is downstairs, somewhere out of Jihyun’s line of sight, but that doesn’t mean she or any of the other guests she’s invited can’t see him. And if he excuses himself now, that’ll draw even more suspicion.

He’ll have to check it out later, though it’s most likely that the message will be pointing out Sarah as the potential assassin. What he really needs now is something concrete, some sign of what the actual plan is to take down the Chairman so that he can make his move to stop it. For now, he still has time, at least until the Chairman and Glam sign the marriage contract, but without an understanding of what move Sarah will make, it’s difficult to assess how he should retaliate. Assuming, of course, that Sarah really is the assassin.

Jihyun sees Jumin break away from a short conversation with her to speak with a few guests who approached him—two of them dressed with the kind of customary extravagance expected for this sort of party, and the last one in a simple red gown Jihyun thinks Mr. Kang would scoff at. If Glam really wants this assassination to happen, then she could just be throwing Sarah at Jihyun as a red herring. Would Glam really go to such lengths?

He thinks back to his and Jumin’s earlier thought that there may be no assassin at all, a notion they’d dismissed almost as soon as it was suggested. After all, it wouldn’t make sense for Glam to go through the trouble of unearthing contact information for Jihyun’s organization, which also happens to be very expensive to hire, just to pretend she made some effort in stopping an assassination that isn’t going to take place.

But what if hiring Jihyun isn’t just a backup plan in case the assassination fails? She must know of the organization’s reputation—they rarely fail missions, and had influence in some of the most important matters in the country through their work. If Glam had the resources to hire Jihyun to stop the assassination, then surely she also had the resources to hire Jihyun’s organization to carry through the assassination in the first place. Known for having contacts almost everywhere, Jihyun could have put together a highly sophisticated assassination, perhaps more sophisticated than whatever Sarah and Glam currently have planned. Why hire such a competent organization to topple a plan that you want to see succeed?

Jihyun feels his heart race in his chest, and he grips the railing a little tighter to steady his shaking hands, realizing he might have been thinking about the entire situation incorrectly from the very beginning.

Perhaps Glam never intended for the assassination to succeed. Perhaps her only goal for the night is to cast Jumin out of the picture.

And if that’s the case, then they may have less time than Jihyun thought.

Down the stairs, across the room, engaged in a conversation with the owner of a cosmetics franchise from the Middle East and trying to calm down his rattling heart in the aftermath of having to dance with a stranger he’s now certain is going to try to kill his father, Jumin has come to the same conclusion. The care Sarah took in her motions wasn’t one of a dancer, and even hidden as her legs are beneath her many layers of skirts Jumin noticed she kept her right leg stiff for the entirety of the dance. A weapon, then, probably tucked against her leg in a stocking or something similar, long enough to reach past her knee. The long skirts disguise her limping for the most part, so much so that even Jumin didn’t notice at first, though his sharp perception is part of what makes him a good agent. The dance was a mistake.

A passing server offers drinks and Jumin accepts a wine glass, his first drink all night, taking a few sips to calm his nerves. The dance made Jumin realize something very important that he’d neglected to pay attention to before—he too is an agent, and that is something Glam doesn’t know—a fact that can be used to his advantage in more ways than just to be aware the assassination attempt will happen.

He sees Jihyun coming down the stairs in his peripheral vision and excuses himself from speaking to the cosmetics specialist, noting a subtle urgency to the way Jihyun walks that tells Jumin the wine is probably the only thing that’ll grant him any amount of relaxation tonight. He fights the instinctual desire to meet Jihyun halfway so not to look suspicious.

“Jumin,” Jihyun starts, and Jumin can tell instantly that they’re thinking the same thing, Jihyun’s mouth set in a grim line.

“I know,” Jumin replies, and Jihyun nods, believing him without needing further clarification. In times like this, it really strikes Jumin how useful it is that they’ve known each other and spent nearly all their time together for over twenty years. While he does have a general understanding of nonverbal cues in communication, his friend’s particular patterns are etched so strongly into his mind that even when working and deliberately disguising their responses he can still read Jihyun effortlessly.

The strike will happen soon. He takes another sip of the wine, the more imminent threat replacing the dance again as the most pressing stressor on his mind. It also doesn’t help that Jumin hates this song, the bow screeching deliberately across the violin, and he grinds his teeth in annoyance.

“So then…” Jihyun murmurs, soft enough that all the noise nearly overpowers his voice. Jumin can see him struggling to convey his meaning without the conversation sounding strange to any potential eavesdroppers. If Glam’s only purpose for the evening is to frame Jumin, then the variables are at once more and less complicated than they were when the two of them thought the assassination was meant to actually work. With a weapon attached to Sarah’s leg, the possibility that the assassination is a multi-step plan that required much prior conceptualization is a lot smaller. Sarah would be the only person to make a move on Jumin’s father. “A party as large as this one is an excellent setting for  _announcements_  that one wishes to receive a lot of attention.”

Jihyun emphasizes the word to let Jumin know to replace it in his mind, but he needn’t have because Jumin know what he means. It wasn’t accidental that Glam chose the biggest party of the year for the assassination, especially because she doesn’t actually intend for it to occur. All she needs is a spectacle, and that much is a clue they can work with. Jumin takes another sip of wine, closing his eyes and trying to focus. “I… suppose it follows that if one really wanted an announcement to get attention, they would make that announcement during the main event of the night.”

Jumin’s eyes open, and Jihyun’s voice joins his in unison. “The countdown.”

Of course… it would be happening right before the signing of the marriage contract. Jumin nearly forgot about what the New Year’s Eve party actually means in all his stress about the marriage and the assassination. He and Jihyun watch one another for a moment, then Jihyun gives Jumin a short nod, and Jumin takes a long drink from his glass as his friend pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time.

“… It’s ten thirty-seven,” Jihyun informs him.

An hour and twenty-three minutes, then. That could be a lot of time or none at all, depending on what the plan is, and currently, they don’t have one. Unsure of what to say, he brings the glass to his lips again. His father will surely want to kiss his girlfriend when the clock strikes, as he does with a different girlfriend every year. If the assassin strikes right at midnight, they may not be able to make as much of a commotion with all the focus being on the celebrations. That leaves two options—they’ll either strike soon, before the beginning of the countdown—or wait until after, during the signing of the contract.

Ideally, Jumin and Jihyun would be able to find some kind of evidence of Glam’s involvement before the attempt actually occurs, and expose her as well as stop the assassination all at once. But with a simpler plan involving just one assassin and some kind of large weapon, the probability that any tracks would be left behind is small.

“Jumin,” Jihyun urges gently when Jumin moves to take another sip, and he stops himself when he realizes the glass is empty.

Jumin mumbles a thank you, and Jihyun nods.

“I’m starting to think,” Jihyun muses, and Jumin folds his arms, the glass still held in one hand waiting for a server to pass carrying a tray he can place it on. “That instead of being preoccupied with details, we should be focusing on you.”

“On me?” Jumin raises an eyebrow and feels it touch the inside of the mask. He’d nearly forgotten he was wearing one.

Jihyun nods. “We know what the purpose of the announcer is, and we should rethink our own purpose accordingly.”

Glam’s purpose…

So Jihyun is suggesting they shift their focus from stopping the assassination and put it instead on clearing Jumin’s name. He looks up with surprise when Jihyun touches his arm, pulse accelerating again when he remembers dancing with Sarah.

“There’s a way you can do both,” Jihyun says. “One certain way that you can do both.”

Jihyun needn’t say anything more. While Glam may have chosen the party for her setting to publicly besmirch Jumin’s name and relationship with his father forever, its high-profile nature also provides an opportunity for an act that could protect Jumin’s reputation as a loving son for the rest of his life. It’s simple, really, but it’s a plan that could never work without Jumin’s training as an agent.

Glam doesn’t know the identities of anyone in the organization. She doesn’t know Jihyun is Jumin’s closest, and indeed only, friend, nor does she know that the Jihyun Kim she met for the first time earlier today is the person she hired to stop the assassination. Had Jumin been the person in the organization to keep track of mission assignments, it would’ve been him who picked up the phone to talk to Glam.

“So… you’re saying we should wait,” Jumin voices, and Jihyun gives him a small smile.

Wait until the assassination attempt happens, and use his own skills to publicly save his father’s life.

Jumin’s breath hitches. “What if I’m too slow?”

His friend’s smile doesn’t falter, and after a moment, Jumin nods. The risk of failure is always present, but Jumin isn’t one to fail. Jihyun, of course, will still be here in case anything goes wrong, but it’d be preferable not to risk blowing his cover as an agent if they’re really going to wait until the assassination actually happens to stop it.

He inhales shakily. “I may need another glass of wine.”

“Be careful,” Jihyun warns.

“I always am.”

* * *

With nothing left to do but wait, Jihyun figures he may as well try to enjoy himself. It’s difficult, though, knowing what a hard time Jumin is having. It’s understandable. Jumin didn’t bring any weapons to the ball, and what defending the Chairman would actually consist of is difficult to identify. It could mean stepping in to bodily protect him, or attacking Sarah, and Jumin and Jihyun’s impaired ability to communicate due to the setting means there’s no way to definitively know which Jumin is planning to go with. It’s also discomforting to think of the distressing situation they’re going to allow the Chairman to be put in, but they can’t expose Sarah beforehand without evidence and it’s possible she’s been instructed to claim Jumin hired her if captured.

The servers are all dressed in simple black dress shirts and pants, with white masks that frame their eyes. A few of them serve at the tables around the ballroom floor. There are more tables upstairs, and while there is no official dinnertime scheduled in, anyone who chooses to sit is offered a menu to order off of, with all costs covered completely by the company. Jihyun notices most people who have chosen to eat ask for steak, and he sees Mr. Park is one of the people sitting down, engaged in conversation with another businessperson and seeming to use the table as a place for a meeting. Fitting, considering he didn’t seem to enjoy the opulent displays put on by the Chairman for this event.

“Something light?” a server asks, holding a tray out to Jihyun, who’s been standing by the wall alone for a few minutes now. The hors d'oeuvres are colourful, each one prepared with a precision that makes Jihyun wonder how much time it all takes. The Chairman did say that the chefs had been brought in from around the world, but that’s not very strange for any meal provided by Jumin’s family.

“Thank you,” Jihyun says, delicately taking a canapé topped with a slice of folded smoked salmon, and the server moves on. He takes a bite, and as always, it doesn’t disappoint, light and easy to eat without having to open his mouth too wide. It’s eleven forty-five, and when he hears the Chairman’s voice projected through speakers around the room, it occurs to Jihyun that he hasn’t danced all night.

“Good evening, everyone,” the Chairman says, standing at the top of the grand staircase. His fiancée stands at his side, and all heads in the room turn to look at them. “Thank you all for joining us here tonight. It’s been an eventful evening, and I am always honoured that our most favoured partners have chosen to celebrate the New Year here with us at C&R.”

Jihyun swallows, and the Chairman launches into listing all the new deals and contracts C&R signed over the course of the night, thanking each one that he names. Jumin is upstairs too, obscured by the railing, having been speaking to someone seated when his father stepped up. He’s too far away for Jihyun to discern his expression, but he joins the crowd in clapping after each statement his father makes. The Chairman then goes on to discuss C&R’s various accomplishments, most of which, Jihyun notes, are credited to Jumin’s department.

“As a company,” the Chairman goes on once he’s concluded his list. “We’ve learned and grown over the past year. Our old relationships have become stronger, and we are grateful for all the new ones that we’ve made, and look forward to a long and prosperous future of business together.”

He beams, and steps aside, arm held out in a gesture toward the woman on his left. “Of course, on a personal note, business relationships are not the only ones I’ve made this year. By now, all of you must have met her, and if you haven’t, then you’ve certainly noticed her unparalleled beauty—”

Glam laughs, and Jihyun’s eyes flit across the room to Mr. Kang, who’s loudly coughing, then back to the Chairman.

“Meeting her was the best thing that has happened in my personal life this year,” he says. “And I am so glad to announce that in about six minutes, after the countdown to the New Year, we will be signing a contract of marriage officially, and the date of our wedding in spring. Glam… thank you for being by my side this year.”

Glam gives him a shining smile, taking his arm in hers. “Thank you for being by mine.”

The crowd bursts into polite applause, slightly muffled since most people’s hands are gloved.

“Before the night is over,” the Chairman says. “I would like to ask my fiancée for the last dance of the year.”

He takes one of Glam’s hands in his and begins to move it to his lips.

And a voice breaks out across the room.

“Everybody, get down!”

Someone screams, and Jihyun and the others standing under the balcony’s heads turn, searching for the source of the outburst.

“I said, get down!”

There’s a loud sound like a firework.

The crowd freezes.

Something falls from above the balcony, hitting the floor with a loud, crushing thud, and Jihyun’s eyes widen as he realizes it’s one of the party’s security guards.

He ducks, and when he angles his head upwards he sees her.

Sarah.

Standing in her ball gown, mask still covering her face, a long black rifle over her shoulder and aiming straight ahead at the opposite side of the room, where the Chairman and Glam have dropped to their knees.

“Except,” Sarah’s voice rings out, echoing across the now-silent ballroom. “For the Chairman, and his fiancée.”

The entire room seems to hold its breath, a deep and silent ocean as Glam begins to move, and the Chairman rises shakily with her to face the woman with the gun.

“Put your hands up,” Sarah instructs. “Or I'll—”

“Stop!”

The silence cracks.

Jumin stands, and Jihyun sees Sarah stiffen, hands tightening around the rifle.

“Drop your weapon,” he orders. Jihyun looks at Glam, whose arms are raised, her jaw hanging open mutedly.

At her side, the Chairman clenches his fists. “Jumin, what are you—”

Sarah’s lips tighten, and she refocuses her weapon on the Chairman again. He falls silent.

“Then I have no choice,” Jumin says.

He picks something up from the dinner table beside him, and Sarah’s lips move but have no time to emit a sound as Jumin propels his body forward, and something flies across the room.

“ _Sarah_!” Glam cries, and almost in slow motion, Sarah’s gun drops, falling to the ballroom floor with a loud clatter as the woman is knocked backwards and out of Jihyun’s field of vision. All heads turn to Glam, who clamps her hands over her mouth.

“You’re worried about _her_?” the Chairman demands incredulously, and the room is in motion, people teeming toward the staircase to check that the Chairman is all right. Glam’s voice is drowned out by footsteps, and Jihyun sees Jumin sink down into one of the chairs by the table, all his limbs seeming to collapse into it.

Jihyun runs for the stairs to be with his friend, shifting his way between the crowd and down the hall, breaths shallow by the time he reaches Jumin.

“I—” his friend stammers, and Jihyun squeezes his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to pull Jumin into his arms.

“That was amazing,” Jihyun says, and more people come to stand around Jumin as one of the security guards shouts from the other side of the room, “I think she’s dead!”

The crowd only becomes louder, and then there’s a sound like a gunshot that shocks the room into silence.

Then they hear another, and another again, and realization dawns over everyone at the same time.

Jihyun murmurs to Jumin, “Happy new year.”

* * *

Jumin and Jihyun stand in the private quarters, having retreated once the commotion became too much to bear. Outside, Glam is being swarmed with questions, the preservation of the Chairman’s life is being celebrated, and while people were distracted with Sarah’s apparent corpse, Jumin and Jihyun slipped behind the large double doors.

“… They’re going to ask how I did that,” Jumin states, leading Jihyun into one of the bedrooms. It’s spacious, with large windows that overlook the gardens covered in snow this time of year, and Jumin opens it to let in the cold, fresh air.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Jihyun tells him. The fireworks in the distance are still going, lighting the room with brief moments of colour. Jumin sighs, and Jihyun steps beside him. “The important thing is that you saved your father.”

“He wasn’t really in danger,” Jumin murmurs. “You know that.”

“Well, yes,” Jihyun admits. “… Still. The mission was a success, because of you.”

That makes Jumin smile, and Jihyun feels relief wash over him at the sight of it.

“Ours was,” he says, amusement in his voice. “Glam’s was a colossal failure, I think.”

Jihyun grins. “Well, we did technically save the Chairman, so we did what she claimed she could pay us to do.”

“That’s true,” Jumin agrees. His breath makes white puffs appear in the air, and Jihyun realizes his friend’s nose is already red though the window’s barely been open for a full minute.

Jihyun closes his hand over Jumin’s, then leans forward to give his cheek a quick kiss. Jumin’s eyes are closed when Jihyun pulls back.

“You did very well,” Jihyun says. “Really. I think this was probably the most high-stress mission you’ve ever done, and you made everything go perfectly.”

“Thank you,” Jumin responds. Jihyun squeezes his hand. “If it’s you saying it, then I’ll believe you.”

Jihyun nods. Jumin’s trust in him is something he never takes lightly, and it’s been a very long night.

“It’s nice to finally get some quiet,” Jumin says, apparently thinking the same thing Jihyun is.

“I quite liked the music, actually,” Jihyun teases.

“Don’t be irritating,” Jumin snorts. “Did you see her rifle? I understand that the ballroom is large, but it hardly justifies such a large gun.”

Jihyun laughs. “I suppose her dress was big enough to hide it. It looked like a chiffon cake.”

Jumin shakes his head, then straightens away from the window to face Jihyun fully. Jihyun mimics his motions. “Really…” he says, his voice taking a more serious tone. “Thank you for being here with me all night. You’re always there when I need you, Jihyun.”

“I know you’re always there for me too,” Jihyun tells him. Jumin smiles.

“Ah… there was something I wanted to ask you,” Jumin says.

Jihyun inclines his head. What more is there to say, after everything?

“If you’re not too tired after all that—”

“You’re the one who should be tired,” Jihyun reminds him. Jumin presses a finger to Jihyun’s lips, and he flushes.

“Even so,” Jumin continues. “I noticed you haven’t danced all night, and I’m not used to not dancing with you at these events. So…”

Jihyun grins at Jumin’s awkwardness, lights dancing across his mask and face. “I’d like that.”

In near silence, save for the occasional crack of fireworks, Jumin takes his hand.


End file.
